


Blood Pairing

by CelticGHardy



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: And others that would spoil the plot., Feel like I should get a beta, Gen, Still haven't seen the movie.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticGHardy/pseuds/CelticGHardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The knowledge of Bond having a child is potentially threatening to say the least. When it comes out who his child is, it goes to life-threatening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the [James Bond Meme.](http://007kinkmeme.livejournal.com/1142.html) I'm glad this is getting some notice.
> 
>  
> 
> [Original Posting.](http://007kinkmeme.livejournal.com/1142.html?thread=13686#t34934)
> 
>  
> 
> I'll leave the actual wording for the end, so those who are reading this and don't know it won't be spoiled.

He asked when he was four.

Laura had come home from her work to her son watching the father and daughter across the road. His look had been questioning, maybe even a little sad as he watched a game of footie being played out. “Where's my father?” he inquired, looking up at her when she set down his plate for dinner.

“Gone,” she answered, looking over at her plate.

“How? Where is he?”

She remembers uni, and a man just out of puberty. Bright, almost always laughing. Barely studying and yet passing well. Careful touches and loving caresses. Then she thinks about the man that approached him in second year. Too crisp of a suit and a blank face. She remembers one for Janet and David, Mitchell and Wendy. She remembers how he changed and how she stopped seeing _him_.

“He died,” she lied, “During my time with you.”

“Did he know?”

“No, I never got to tell him.”

He had become hard when he left her. She didn't go begging him back, didn't tell him that the last time the condom broke and her control failed. She knew where he was going, and she knew the dangers.

_Not my child._

“I'm sorry, Mummy,” he confessed, seeing his mother sad at the old memories.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Jamie, okay?”

He nodded, “Okay.”


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with Mum and information from enemies start a day in MI-6.

Bond had destroyed another gun.

Next time, he should slip him a five pound knife and tell him that's all he gets. Q checked off another gun from the inventory and made a note to make one that replaced it so other double 0s that didn't lose things often could actually have one. At least the radio was back. It was in pieces, but he could repair it instead of replacing it.

After sending off two interns for the gun and the parts for the radio, he decided to check up on intel that was being brought in. Tying together two threats and writing up a warning for an agent about to find a bioterrorist was easy, but the last file was deeply encrypted, and someone had taken the time to use several codes to make sure the information wasn't accessible to anyone but the intended recipient. 

Well, that just piqued his interest as he started working on the file in earnest. It was three minutes of the decryption work, and five to thoroughly work through the message codes to get to something.

_To: I.went.76483.74582@aim.com  
From: nonexistant69@yahoo.com_

_Bond has a child. Finding out more._

Q had to reread the item twice for the actual subject to sink in. _How the hell does that man have a child?_ It truly take a minute for the implications to come up. _How the hell does that man have a child and MI-6 not know about it?_

-

Bond thought he would have a few more hours before being called back in. The recent knife wound played up as he walked into M's office. Q was fidgeting with the paper printout of the email and M was waiting behind the desk. “What couldn't wait?” he questioned, standing alongside Q.

“We've received intel that concerns you, Bond,” he began, “Do you have a child?”

“No,” he responded.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Someone says you do,” Q prompted, handing him the paper.

He read it for a second and criticized, “A single sentence email has you calling me back for what's most likely a hoax.”

“The man that sent it was working with Silva before his capture. He's a middleman for several terrorists and arms dealers,” M brought up.

“Who was ordering for the information?” Bond inquired.

“Finding that out,” Q mentioned.

“Bond, figure out why they think you have a child. Go back over your life. All girlfriends, one-nighters, anyone you can remember. Time and place them. Q, once he hands you a list, go through it as fast as you can. If they have children and they correspond to the estimate date of conception, we'll search them out,” M ordered, “Do it now, before they find out.”

Dismissed, the two walked down to Q's department. “You might want to start on that list now,” he goaded, “You must have gone through girls in college. And during your service.” Bond only glared at him before swiping paper from the printer and snagging one of his pens before writing.

Half an hour later with mutterings, scratchings and overwrites, a paper covered with names and dates was thrusted under Q's nose. “If you do happen to find I do have a child, try not sending them an address of mine,” he droned.

“I'll send you on a meet with one then,” he mocked. Then, he began a program that he could search the names with. Bond left after the program began finding documents and a photo came up of the latest woman. A lackey brought over his tea and he started loading names into the program.

Since it wasn't an international threat or a threat to multiple lives, Q was actually able to get out around seven. His work mobile was placed in an inside, secure pocket and he pulled out his private one. He turned it on and instantly saw the voicemail left. “Jamie, it's your mother,” a voice rang out of the small receiver,” I guess I couldn't catch you. I'm going to be in London on Thursday to meet someone. If you can get away from your computers, we could get lunch, or dinner. Call me, don't text...” The message stopped and he realised she must have been cut off. He still smiled at the thought of seeing his mother as he walked to his flat.

-

Q was already going through the previous nights results when Bond walked in. “How's your sugared milk?” he greeted, drinking a mug of coffee from the mess.

“How's your burnt flavoured water?” he countered, putting the rest of the names in.

“You didn't finish running those last night?”

“Surprisingly, MI six does not revolve around you. I went home, at and actually slept in my own bed,” he defended, “At a decent time.” He finished the last name and started the program. Bond silently walked back out and he brought up intel gathered during the night to read on while waiting.

Once all the women had been checked and cleared through their information, he noticed a gap in the dates. He sighed. _Uni._ He doubted the man had been celibate or with just men during the time. He couldn't say the search was complete until he checked on all of Bond's female exs and the man was holding back a fling from Uni. _Typical double oh behaviour._ He couldn't wait for the man to walk back in the lab. Instead, he had to search him out.

Visits to the mess and the gym proved futile and Q knew the man had a desk for reports, but that was a mute idea. He hated sitting at a desk and hated writing reports. The indoor range was the last place he wanted to look, mostly due to the noise of the guns. He rather not have to decipher between radio transmissions and his ringing ears.

The thought to grab ear protection only came into his mind when he walked into see Bond shooting off an entire clip at a paper target. His fingers provided low resistance against the rapid firing. He pulled them out when the gun pointed to the ground. “Q,” he noticed.

“Double oh seven,” he frowned, “Were you celibate in your early years of University?”

“I wasn't,” he answered, loading another clip, “You have the names of all the women I've slept with since secondary.”

“Except your second year and part of your third at Uni,” he pointed out. He plugged his ears as the gun went through another clip. “If there was a woman then,” he yelled.

The gun stopped. “It can't be her,” he argued, looking at him.

“Why, was she sterile? Because that is a possibility if you were having sex with her,” he challenged. Bond didn't give him warning when he finished off the clip in the gun. Two rounds went off before he could plug his ears.

Bond strode over to Q and stood in front of him. “I'm sure that the woman I was dating at the time has not had any children by me,” he growled, walking off. Q registered the anger and briefly wondered about it before deciding to ignore the reaction. _Double ohs do not like to be questioned. Noted._

-

“Jamie,” a middle-aged woman crooned, holding her son's head still so she could kiss him on the cheek.

“Mum,” Q groaned, trying to wipe the lip colour off.

“Oh, sit,” she chuckled, taking the seat by her purse. A waiter took their drink orders and handing them menus before walking off. “How's your work? Software development, still?”

“Yeah, running a bunch of codes and making sure nothing breaks,” he confirmed.

“Oh, that sounds terribly boring,” she sympathised.

“A few more weeks and I may be able to create a program,” he confessed. Both went over their menus when the waiter started circling around again. After they ordered and the menus disappeared, Q asked, “Who are you seeing?”

“Oh, an old friend from Uni,” she mentioned, “Her children have moved on and we're getting together for tea. You should join us; she hasn't seen you in years.”

“Mum, I don't think I would fit very well in the conversation,” he observed.

Their plates came and both moved to allow the waiter to put them down. “It'll be fine; we're just going to reminisce.”

“Let me rephrase that, I don't think my ears could take your conversations.”

“Just because I decided to raise you without all that wish-wash,” she scoffed.

“Yes, because a five year old needs to understand the gory details of childbirth,” he deadpanned.

“You asked where babies came from.”

“Several parents sill use storks, or less descriptive explanations.”

“Why censor it?” Both took a few minutes to get further in their meals. “So, do you want to come?”

“Only if I'm not hearing tales about college conquests,”he implored.

“I make no promises,” she soothed, “We're going after dessert.”

Q groaned.

“Laura!” Marian greeted, hugging her for a few seconds, “Oh, little Jamie. Last time I saw you was in primary. No so little now.” She hugged him also and it took half a second to reciprocate. “Still scraggly. Got a girlfriend?” He moaned. “Or a boyfriend?”

“Oh, god,” he muttered. The women laughed as they walked into the flat.

Sitting on the sofa, tea and biscuits within reach, the women were laughing at old stories that were brought up. “Do you remember the prank we pulled on Doctor Evans?”

“Pranks?” Q piped up. His mother hated April Fool's and stopped him from playing physical pranks on the neighbours.

“Don't tell him about those,” Laura chastised, “I had to stop him from rigging an alarm system that told our neighbour's wife when he was sneaking out.”

“Oh, you downer,” she complained, “If I can't tell him those things, I will show him pictures.” She got up with protests from Laura and brought back two scrapbooks. The first one opened up to four women wearing the fashions of the late eighties.

“Mum, your hair,” he grinned, barely keeping back laughter at his mother's large hair and bright coloured trousers. She lightly smacked him as her friend kept turning the pages, keeping up stories of classes, strange behaviours and other tales.

The end of the book showed couples of the girls. Q noticed all three of the girls, but none of his mother and his 'father'. The last page must have been a collage of the ones that stayed together, including one empty space that stood out among the others. Laura noticed and was partially relieved at the absence. The next book went quickly, Laura's pregnancy and some of the youngest pictures Q had ever seen of himself.

The missing picture pulled at Q. He wonder if it was a couple one of his mother and the dead father he's never seen. She said she had none to show him. Younger, he thought it was to save herself heartache. Older, it didn't make sense. He had gone looking for reported deaths that matched the time frame, and found none.

Picking up to leave, Laura exited first. Q moved to follow when Marian past a letter to him. “Not around your mother,” she muttered. He nodded and walked out after her.

“Well, I think I'll get to my hotel,” Laura declared.

“Mum, a hotel?” he insisted, “You know I can take the couch and....”

“Wake up with a bad back to go to work with,” she finished, “No, I have a nice hotel and I will enjoy it. Good night, Jamie.”

“Night, Mum,” he acquiesced, bending slightly to accept a hug and another kiss on the cheek. Both walked off to their places of sleep.

Once at his flat, Q pulled out the letter Marian had given him.

_She did it to protect you. Don't go looking for him._

The letter also came with a photo, folded up with some of the scrapbooking cut outs on it. He unfolded, looked, and dropped it in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note from posting.
> 
>  
> 
> _Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine and I do not own anything recognizable. Note, I am American. Be warned._  
> 


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond and Q find out, but someone else has known all along.

Q didn't see Bond as he got to work. Completely fine by him. He settled at his desk and started bringing up intel from overnight programs. He looked up as the program he had tracking the email addresses pinged with another email.

_To: I.went.76483.74582@aim.com  
From: nonexistant69@yahoo.com_

_It's a boy. Early 20's. Take?_

He stared a good minute before printing it off.

M read it quickly. “Bond?”

“Haven't seen him,” he reported.

“He hasn't seen this?”

“No.”

He nodded. “And there wasn't any child that matched up.”

“No, but there was a fifteen month space he didn't fill out. He would have been at University and it matches the time frame for someone in their early twenties,” he noted.

M nodded again. “Try to find this young man before he is kidnapped, Q. And try to locate the man who wants him.”

“Understood sir.” He walked out of the office, seeing the secretary trying to call Bond. Back in his office, in front of the computers, he pondered the photo, and the implications. Bringing the picture was not the best idea, but he couldn't stop. It was Laura, in love and laying against a young man. It seemed unbelievable that the man with a warm smile holding her was a young 007, yet his eyes and mind kept connecting him with the current agent. The back also listed their names, James and Laura.

It was easy to bring up the files on him and Bond. MI-6 required everyone to have a physical entering the agency. Blood was taken for testing and a part was profiled for DNA, in case of death. Minutes of hesitation with a lackey startling him with his tea force him to go forward and compare. He ran the program three times, hoping for a different result. Every time, it would declare the samples were matching in half of the alleles. Q carefully wiped all logs and the results. This would not, _he_ could not become a liability.

-

James had been enjoying the days at home. Without a mission, paperwork or anything having to be done at headquarters, he had stayed away since the confrontation between him and Q. It was the third day and the secretary had called ten times, leaving messages for him to get his arse back and talk to M. He has ignored all of them.

“Bond, get back here. Now,” M ordered. _Well, if it was M actually calling, then I might want to get in._ He thought to himself sarcastically.

The secretary was nowhere in sight and he took that as permission to walk in. M was sitting on the sofa on the side of the room. Someone was in the chair not facing the door, and the only thing he could see was short grey hair. “About time, Bond,” M renounced, finishing the file he was reading. Bond didn't say anything and he kept going. “There was another email sent three days ago. They narrowed down your child to an early twenties male.”

“I don't have a child,” he argued.

“Yes, you do, double oh seven,” the person in the chair proclaimed, standing up to face. Clutching a cane and leaning against it, the last M, the one he had been promoted under and had died, was standing there.

“Ma'am,” he said, barely keeping the surprise off his face by keeping his eyes narrow and face still. “I thought you were dead.”

“They brought me back. Someone has to deal with the double ohs that keep going off,” she cited, implying the _you, 007_. “Everyone that enters into MI six is given a physical. Everything that can be used to identify a body is taken down in a report. This includes the persons DNA.”

“I remember.”

“We also thoroughly check DNA profiles for matches among the personnel coming in with the people that have worked here, current and former, and several others we have on file. This is to look out for relations of old agents, rogue and renegade, enemies that we know about and family members of such.”

“Someone matched me coming in,” he stated.

“Indeed,” M, Mallory, concurred, handing over the file he had. Q's picture was the first thing he saw. Papers that vaguely looked like DNA profile printouts and multiple highlights of matching alleles. His photo and details were also in and a direct correlation was pointed out for people would couldn't read the printouts.

“If possible, relations are not allowed to work together,” M explained, “But with Q becoming the Quartermaster and you a double oh, it was unavoidable.”

Bond had zoned out, finding the printout of the second email. The body wasn't interesting, but the email address that was receiving the messages was. 76483 and 74582 decoded in his head and he started running out of the office. _How could I be that bloody stupid to not have picked that up?_ “Where's Q?” he questioned.

“Bond,” M called out, mildly confused, “What....”

“It's Silva!” he shouted back at them, the elevator shutting.

-

Q had gotten out early to eat with this mother before she headed back home. It was a café just a few blocks from her hotel, so he arrived just as she was walking inside. “Hey, Mum,” he breathed, catching up to her.

“Jamie,” she smiled. The briefly hugged before walking in. She waited until they had gotten menus before asking, “Work?”

“Umm, eventful. Just found out something about a co-worker,” he divulged.

“Ooo, a scandal,” she enjoyed, “What was it?”

He blanked, trying to figure out a suitable lie to tell her. Scanning the café for ideas, he instead saw two men by the door, guns badly hidden under their shirts. There were two others that are hidden better, but he still could tell from their stiff postures and the glances to the other men that they were all together. “Jamie?”

“Sorry, umm...” he paused, still trying to think of something. During his mental scramble, his mother ended up watching the people walking in. Her eyes widened in surprise or shock and he had to turn around to see what she was staring out. _Oh, fuck._

Bond did make a good show of just showing up there, and seeing Laura to make it look like it was a surprise reunion since Uni. The surprised face was perfect, but Q didn't think him saying 'Laura' was supposed to have as much behind it as it did. Q turned back to his mother. She didn't look very happy, but it only showed in her eyes, face carefully blank. “James,” she uttered, getting up to greet him.

“It's been years,” he professed. Q would start hitting his head against the table if it didn't tell him he was still there. 007 also chose that moment to notice him. Oh joy. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to....”

“It's fine,” she dismissed, “I'm just having dinner with my son.”

“Son?” _Oh damn it._ He projected surprised but he knew, somehow he knew. _How in hell did he find out?_

“Yes, James, my son,” she insisted. Q could see she was standing stiff, a state he never wanted to see and be cause of. He was perversely glad it was aimed for 007. Unfortunately, the men he was worried about started paying attention to her as well. He couldn't tell 007 anything that would give away everything to his mother, and she would be pissed off at him as well. “Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to finish having a meal with him so I can get on the train to go home tonight.” She sat back down, and anyone sane would have taken that as a dismissal and left. Damn the man for being a double oh.

“What's his name?” He knew, he knew 007 wanted to ask _that_ question, but he changed at the last second.

His mother was unwilling to answer, and quite unfortunately, if she didn't answer, he would be asked under the pretence of Bond not knowing who he was. He would not live this down from the man. “ _His_ name is James,” he offered, “Pleasure to meet you.” A hand was extended and he shook it quickly before keeping up the charade. “How do you know my Mother?”

“Jamie,” she cautioned.

“I met her at Uni,” he answered, keeping it up, “She was sitting under a tree, reading a Maths book. I used it as an excuse to talk to her.” Someone had brought over another seat and he sat in it, between Q and Laura. He ordered off of Q's menu and the three of them were left alone after the waiter left.

“So, I found out about my Mother's penchant for pranking,” he proposed, pointed ignoring her arguments, “I didn't get to hear very much about the ones she pulled.”

“Oh, don't you dare, James,” she warned.

He smirked, “You mean how several of the football players ended up with inching powder in their socks.”

“Really,” Q pestered, “How did she get access to them?”

“Do not encourage him,” she pleaded.

“At the time...” he started before she kicked him under the table. Q didn't hold back his smile at his discomfort and her indignation. She sighed and walked off with her purse toward the restrooms. Bond became serious. “Weapon?”

“Don't have one.”

“That was a rather poor choice,” he nagged.

“Well, I had hoped for a peaceful dinner with my Mother.”

He nodded, once. “How long have you known?”

“Couple days. You?”

“I'm approaching an hour.”

Laura came back and both stopped talking to look at her. “What are you two planning?” she questioned.

“Nothing,” the chorused. She started at the two of them before sitting back down. Their meals came and they settled down to eat. None talked as Laura needed to hurry to catch her train.

“Be good,” she told Q, outside of the café. The four men had followed outside, two standing at either side no matter which way Q goes. Bond looked ready to shove Q into the nearest cab and deal with them.

“I am being good,” he argued, then caught her look. “I will.”

“And be careful,” she warned, eyes flickering to Bond for a second.

He smiled weakly, “Bye, Mum.”

“Goodbye, Jamie,” she whispered, hugging him before calling her cab over. Bond waited until the car disappeared before leading Q away. The men followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No author's note. I wasn't feeling witty at the time.


	4. Chapter Three

“For someone that hacked into the MI six for their fourteenth birthday, you are certainly thick,” Bond criticised, turning them down another street. The first man that tried to grab Q had his wrist broken and he tripped into a gaggle of school aged children. The second pulled out a gun and tried to shoot Bond. People screamed and fled out of the way; Q was pushed into a covered doorway and he fired back, hitting him in the head.

Three and Four used the chaos to get closer, pushing people out of the way. Bond used Three to knock down Four and then resent him to One to keep him knocked out. Two dead, the other three unconscious, Bond grabbed Q and started moving again. “M is sending a cleaning crew,” Q reported, reading his mobile, “We're to get back to headquarters.”

“Knew that,” he grunted, moving him toward the Tube.

M had sat back down and Mallory was the only on in view when the two walked in. “Good, you're back,” Mallory stated, “Q, you search on the first address needs to focus on where it's coming from. Track it as fast as you can; we need to know where it is.”

“Yes sir,” he agreed.

“And Q,” M decreed, standing up to face him, “We'll talk about trying to cover up the searches later.”

Q started for a few seconds before muttering something close to 'Yes ma'am' and quickly running out. “Searches?” Bond inquired.

“He didn't clear the surveillance footage,” she alluded. He raised an eyebrow. “The ones that are still alive are downstairs, being interrogated.” He nodded and headed down.

There were two doors being guarded by a pair of security each. He entered in the adjacent room of the first one. “Name,” the interrogator barked. One just stared at him. After a few minutes, he saw it was going nowhere and moved over to the next room. Three was mildly concussed, and kept throwing out curses. Entertaining, but not useful. _There should be one more_ Two was a head shot, dead, but four wasn't injured at all, and wasn't out for very long. The last room should have had an interrogator and two more guards. It was also around the corner. Carefully, he moved around.

The guards were dead, necks broken. He walked into the interrogation to find the third person the same way. “Shit,” he muttered, pulling out his mobile and running past the guards.

“Double oh seven?” one inquired.

“Make sure those two stay where they are,” he ordered, not even looking back.

-

Q pulled up the program he had running and started actively guiding it. He was bounced around for a minute before pulling a thread and following. “Where are you?” he muttered. The signal centred on Europe, then toward the UK. He followed it to England and then London when the email alert pinged. He ignored it and kept tightening the track. Just as it was over a section, it stopped. “Damn it!” He tried starting it back up, but was blocked and scrambled over Asia.

The email alert pinged again. “Great, fine,” he growled, opening up the new emails.

_To: Info@MI6.go.uk  
From: I.went.76483.74582@aim.com_

_Have you figured it out, Q?_

He stared and opened up the second.

_To: Info@MI6.go.uk  
From: I.went.76483.74582@aim.com_

_Should I call you 'Nephew'?_

It clicked into place too late. _I went rogue. Silva!_ He started searching the security cameras for everyone. M and Mallory were in his office. Moneypenny entered and locked the door before pulling out her weapon. Mallory also brought one out and M took the one handed to her. He switched to other cameras, slipping over interrogation. One and Three were still there, but he saw the bodies of the interrogator and guards of Four. He finally found Bond, heading apparently toward his division.

“I thought I would have more time," a voice mentioned, “We might want to leave before he gets here.” Q locked down the computers before turning to Silva, who had sneaked in while he was searching. Q thought about all the weapons in development and which he could reach before he was rushed. “Oh, please don't do that,” he interrupted, bringing out a gun. “Come over to 'Uncle' Silva.”

“No, I don't believe I will,” he declined.

“It wasn't a request.” Silva moved forward to catch him. Both instinctively dropped with two gunshots echoed out. Q heard the crackle of a computer and grimaced. He heard Silva trying to move closer and decided to try and run for the door. Reaching it, he took a step out before being pulled back. “What's your hurry?” Silva taunted, keeping him close by placing him in a stranglehold.

“I forgot I had a rather volatile experiment going at the moment and the gunshots may have upset it,” he gasped. There was a slight hesitation as Silva looked around for anything that would possibly blow up. Q grabbed the closest pen and jammed it in Silva's thigh before he could realise it. Reaction had Silva loosening his grip for a second, which he used to make himself heavy so he would be dropped. Just as he started falling, another shot rang out.

-

Bond got to Q Division quickly. He warned Moneypenny and was planning on joining the other three once he had Q. He reached the right floor to see Silva in thug Four's clothes walk into the room. He ran down and stopped when he hit the glass windows and had to duck to not be seen. A quick look up saw Silva had pulled out a gun and he readied his gun in retaliation. When he moved, he shot twice to where the man's head should have been.

“Damn,” he hissed, running down to the door for a better shot. Silva had pulled Q up and dragged him back inside.

“I forgot I had a rather volatile experiment going at the moment and the gunshots may have upset it.” Q was barely audible. Silva carefully didn't move much, but his head turned to look for anything about to happen. He saw Q grab the pen and stab Silva. He shot Silva when Q was below his chest, hitting him just above the left eyebrow.

“Q?” he queried, walking in.

“You shot one of my computers,” he complained, standing up. Bond mentally rolled his eyes and pulled him out to start walking him toward Mallory's office. “You're not on mission and you still manage to destroy something.”

Moneypenny let them in. Mallory calmed after Bond told them he shot Silva. “He is truly dead this time?” M demanded.

“Shot in the head, ma'am,” Bond confirmed.

“Good,” Mallory agreed.

“Now we just have to find a way to make sure he stays dead this time,” Moneypenny muttered.

“There are large amounts of salt and petrol we could use,” Q whispered back.

“Desecration of a body, Q?” M questioned, “And don't think I forgot about the searches. Mallory, if I could borrow the office.” He nodded and walked out with Moneypenny and Bond following. Q watched in trepidation as the woman sat down behind the desk and pointed him to the chair across. “About the searches and hiding them.”

Bond was standing at the door when he finally got out of his lecture. Q asked, “Why are you waiting around?”

He followed Q down to the division. The computer that had been shot was unplugged and sitting in a repair station. “Do you want to be acknowledged?” he inquired.

Q slowed while gathering his items. “No point. I wouldn't dream of calling you 'Dad,'” he cited.

He seemed satisfied at the answer. “I wouldn't think of calling you son,” he agreed, “Q.”

“Double oh seven,” he reflected back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Finished for now.
> 
> Prompt:  
>  _TITLE: [long lost family] gen  
>  >>COMMENT: Bond is Q's biological father. Him and Q's mom had a fling years ago. They eventually went their separate ways with Bond not knowing she was pregnant. Q grew up believing that his father died before he was born. His mom told him that because she knew what Bond's job was and didn't want to put her son in harm's way. Somehow Bond finds out Q is his son (however is up to you). Bonus if Q's first or middle name is James._
> 
> _I'm assuming Bond is old enough to be Q's biological father. My knowledge of James Bond is limited._

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note from the original posting.
> 
>  
> 
> _Oh Goddess, please forgive me. I haven't written in a British dialectic in a while and I haven't seen Skyfall. I'm going by fanfics and that one clip._
> 
>  
> 
> _And I also should be working on something else entirely, so entries may be sporatic._


End file.
